On The Other Side
by IntoTheWilds
Summary: ONE-SHOT: Hiding within the darkness that is Gotham city, Joker holds Spencer Reid. It has been over a year and Derek has given up any hope of ever seeing his pretty boy again until the Joker lays down a challenge to play and when Derek finally sees Spencer again his world is shattered, heart broken as everything he knows is stolen from him...


**DISCLAIMER:** _I do not own Criminal Minds, Batman or their characters!_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_ Don't kill me! I blame the plot bunnies, and my muse Merida, she's having one of her episodes O.o aaaaanywho, read review pleaaaaase and enjoy my lovlies! :)_

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"_The edge, there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is, are the ones who have gone over."_  
**―****Hunter S. Thompson**

* * *

_/Morgan moved kissing his husband sweetly drinking in his pleasurable sigh as he moved gently. One mocha hand caressed a single creamy thigh, fingers biting into the soft flesh when their touches became more demanding. Spencer arched with a groan, taking, giving, having all they could from one another until they both flew over that precarious edge and dissolved into the sheets with content sounds._

"_Now that is one way to wake up," Spencer said with sleepy smile._

_Chuckling Morgan kissed him on the nose, "Couldn't help it pretty boy. You were there all naked a delicious looking, I just had to."_

"_Hey, I'm not complaining."_

_Morgan grinned rolling so Spencer was plastered over his chest. The lithe man wriggled, burrowing closer a happy smile shaping his lips. He tilted his head to the side, hazel eyes warm._

"_I love you."_

_Morgan mirrored his smile, "love you too baby boy."/_

Derek surged upright with a yelp. His chest rose and felt rapidly and he was sure his heart was about to burst from his chest. Whimpering Clooney crawled from his bed and bounded up onto the bed nuzzling into his master. Breathing slowly Derek reached out a hand toward the Rottweiler and Clooney licked his fingers reassuringly.

"Hey boy, did I frighten you?" Derek whispered gently scratching Clooney's ears. The canine settled quickly, curling his large body close to his master and with how lonely he had been feeling, for once Derek didn't mind.

Settling back down on his side he languidly ran his fingers over his dogs muzzle until Clooney was snoozing and Derek was somewhat more relaxed.

It was the nights that were the hardest. Thirteen months, twenty-one days, five hours, thirty-four minutes and ten seconds and counting, was how long Dr Spencer Reid had been missing and Derek had been existing in this hell without the man he loved.

They had been on a case in Gotham. The infamous felon known as The Joker had gotten loose from Arkham Asylum through explosives and creativity and had gone on a bloody rampage with his new found freedom. At the end of their rope, and unable to count solely upon the wanted cape crusader, the Gotham PD had called in the BAU and on a routine raid the psychotic clown had snatched up Spencer and no matter how hard they searched, the doctor was never found.

His dream was the last warm and wonderful memory Derek had to cling to and some nights even that wasn't enough. Dozing, his alarm clock reading three am, the FBI agent had almost drifted back to sleep when his cell phone's ringtone rang out loud and clear; shrill to his ears and making him groan. Twisting, the covers tangling about his legs, Derek reached for the vibrating device and sure enough **HOTCH** flashed repeatedly upon the brightly lit screen.

"Morgan."

'_Hey, we caught a case, wheels up in thirty. Everyone will be briefed on the jet.'_

"How bad we talking Hotch?" Morgan asked softly a sinking feeling settling heavily in the pit of his stomach.

'_Bad Morgan..._he's_ back."_

Oh God. The infamous clown had been silent for almost five months. No explosions, no random kidnappings, no taunting the Batman. It was getting to the point where they were thinking—well more hoping—that he was gone. But good things never lasted, and a pang pulled at Derek's heartstrings when he automatically thought of his marriage and missing husband in that regard.

"No problem Hotch...Seeya in thirty."

* * *

~o~o~o~

* * *

The jet moved smoothly toward Gotham city, clouds glossing over the outer shell while a sombre crowd simmered within. Apparently there was a bit more to the story then the Joker seemingly having returned. He had requested the BAU specifically to—in his words—come out and play and the team had decided to answer.

"The Joker has returned, and this time he's not alone." Laying out photo after photo of mutilated bodies Hotch looked to each member of his team. "This time Joker has an accomplice who refers to himself as Banshee. Unidentifiable due to a plain white mask he uses to hides his face. He is highly unstable and from what we know _highly_ intelligent, more so then the Joker in both aspects."

"What weapon does he use," Prentiss questioned brows pulled tight in a frown, "these victims were mainly beheaded, but there's no hesitation marks. It was done in one clean sweep and by something very sharp."

"His preferred weapons are a pair of katana, though he's known to use a Khopesh."

"Ok a Katana I know, but enlighten me on the Khopesh."

"It's a weapon native to Egypt," explained Rossi from next to Morgan. "Has a curved blade, which could make him easier to trace. A real one would leave a paper trail, same for the swords."

"We can have Garcia look into it; Banshee has also been known to use a gun." Hotch sighed tossing the heavy file down, while Garcia nodded and got to work. "Truth be told, he doesn't really care about the weapon. Witnesses have seen him snap a man's neck with ease and walk away without as much as a flinch."

"Be honest Hotch," said JJ settling down her coffee cup, "which one should we be more worried about?"

Hotch sighed and decided to be honest, "I think Banshee is our main concern. As insane as The Joker is, he has his own rules he plays by, which means to a degree there is a way of reining him in, but Banshee? No. He has no allies, answers to no one and doesn't feel the need to play games in order to justify his killings. He is the flame and everything he touches _will_ burn."

* * *

~o~o~o~

* * *

Commissioner Jim Gordon was at the end of his rope. The latest hell had really gotten his gorge rising. Another body had turned up. A young man named Sam, barely eighteen and a fragile kid who could only be called pretty with his delicate appearance, lush brown curls and lily white skin. His big hazel eyes would probably haunt Gordon's dreams for the rest of his life, but nothing compared to his mouth split wide in a permanent grin or what had been carved into his chest. Looking back down at the crime scene photos Gordon couldn't help his violent flinch.

**SPENCEY WAS HERE!**

It had been cut into the kids flesh deep enough to draw a serious amount of blood and from the bruising on his wrists and ankles, Sam had been restrained and had felt every slash of the scalpel used as he fought fiercely against his binds. The Joker card had been left with the body and Gordon was no idiot. This was a taunt, he knew the BAU were coming and he was willing to open old wounds in an effort to create chaos.

"Commissioner, the BAU are here sir."

With a soundless nod he gathered up the files and followed his Officer from his office and down a flight of stairs to Conference room B. The murder board had already been set up and a blonde woman—who he presumed was the bubbly tech analyst he had only ever heard on the phone—was pouring coffee, while simultaneously working her magic on a laptop.

"Hotch."

Hotch turned and smiled weakly, "Commissioner. Really wish we weren't meeting under these circumstances again."

"Me too agent and it just got worse I'm afraid. Another body just turned up."

Pulling the file from under his arm, Gordon opened it and placed Sam's photo on the table for the team to see. The reaction was immediate. Rossi swore heartily, tossing a few phrases in Italian, Garcia and Morgan lost all colour and Hotch closed his eyes as if he were in pain.

**SPENCEY WAS HERE!**

Those three words were a horrible brand forever burned into the minds of the BAU team and Morgan was sure he would be sick because the kid was the image of Spencer.

"That son of a bitch is taunting us," the agent eventually hissed, "he wanted us here, and now he's shoving Spencer in our faces!"

"Easy Morgan," Hotch told his friend gently.

Morgan wanted to argue, wanted to scream and tear the place apart, but that would get him nowhere. It wouldn't bring his pretty boy back.

"The Joker has requested a meeting," Gordon continued, "You Hotch, Morgan and the Batman."

_He what?! _Hotch dragged a hand through his hair, fisting it slightly. This was not happening this was _not_ happening; they were not playing into this madman's hands!

"That won't achieve a thing," Rossi said flabbergasted, "what the hell does he want to prove?"

"Nothing," Gordon responded with a weak laugh, "there is never a method to his madness, usually. This time though, I think it's about Dr Reid."

"Spencer," Morgan croaked in disbelief, "it's been over a year, why now?" A pained look came over the agent's features, "why now, when we know Spencer has been dead all this time."

"Dr Reid isn't dead," Gordon corrected sadly watching as six startled expressions turned toward him, "Young boys have been turning up just like Sam, with other messages, including this. This is twenty-two year old Justin, found on the steps of the courthouse, and with this carved into his chest."

**SPENCEY NOT DEAD, JUST BROKEN, A LOST BOY WITH NO PAN!**

Garcia was the first to recover, her fingers at her throat worrying her black and yellow pearls, "What does that mean?"

"That the Joker has broken Reid mentally," Hotch answered reluctantly. He didn't want to give in, but playing into the fantasy might be there only choice, even to rescue even part of Spencer, "when do we meet?"

* * *

~o~o~o~

* * *

The days were somewhat warm, but the nights were cooler and Morgan and Hotch were not happy about their current predicament. They were in a dark desolate part of Gotham surrounded on all sides by warehouses, all abandoned, all dark empty window eyes staring out at them, ominous and foreboding. The FBI agents were armed, guarded by Kevlar vests and as of five minutes ago were shadowed by the Batman himself.

"We're playing into his hands," Batman informed them in his gruff tones, "there is no point to this."

"The Joker has one of our agents, has for a year," Hotch retorted, "and for some reason he is using him to catch our attention. I for one want to know why."

"Even if you get killed in the process," Bruce shook his head in confusion, "this is all a game to the Joker."

"Maybe so," Hotch responded curtly, "but he doesn't want to kill us."

Batman prided himself on his ability to determine what a criminal's intent was. The Joker wasn't someone you could figure out exactly and even if that wasn't a factor, Banshee was a mad dog with no leash, not even Joker had an ounce of control over the unknown lunatic, so Hotch's confidant reply was a surprise to the Dark Knight and he was about to say as much until he caught sight of the boy. Morgan and Hotch saw him too, a scrawny kid of about fifteen stood randomly in the middle of the dilapidated buildings. White paint had been smeared over his face, with black shadowing his eyes and his mouth split wide in an unnatural grin, ice blue eyes wild and that of the insane. With a hysterical laugh the teenager gestured and took off in a southerly direction.

They took off after the kid, zigzagging through the scattered debris and warehouses until they came upon one lost amongst the rest. It was the smallest, and had been painted a vivid purple on the outside. Someone had put up curtains and music pulsed from within, the warm lights giving it a somewhat homely feel. With a giggle the boy disappeared inside and after only a second's hesitation the two FBI agents and one vigilante followed into the Lion's dead, into surprisingly plush surroundings of drapes, shrouds, soft furniture and a roaring fire and there stood in all his glory was The Joker himself.

"Welcome, welcome my dear friends," he chorused a grin splitting his face, "so happy to have you in my humble abode."

"No games Joker," Batman snarled angrily, "what do you want?"

"_Ooooh_ so impatient batsy," Joker tisked playfully eyes lit up yellow teeth gnashing dangerously, "and the subject of the evening _kiddies_ is our friend Spencey of course!"

The growl was out before Morgan could stop it, his hand going straight for the butt of his gun, but instead of shooting the bastard like he wanted, the plea left his lips, desperate and begging.

"Where is Spencer? No matter how broken he is. Give him back, please."

The peels of hysterical laughter were not what the agents had been expecting after Morgan's plea and the sound only made Derek angrier then he already was.

"Oh batsy, you're friends are just _tooooooo_ much! Yes indeedy I broke poor, poor Spencey, but there are very subtle levels of broken don't you think?"

The light in his eyes was that of the truly deranged and yet the Joker would claim he was perfectly sane. His actions often begged to differ.

"I'm getting tired of this you son of a bitch," Morgan finally barked words ending on a vicious snarl, "where is Spencer?"

"Spencer hasn't been home for a while."

The new voice was like a bucket of cold ice tossed over him and God Morgan, nor Hotch wanted to turn toward it. Not that familiar tone that sounded so very foreign at the same time. Morgan was the first to dare a look and his heart practically stopped in his chest, because there stood his husband, and yet not his husband. He work dark clothing, a long leather trench coat over a black shirt, black vest and tie. His slacks were also black and hugged tight to his thighs. On his feet he wore shitkicker boots, but it was the accessories that drew the gaze of the three men. A pair of Katana lay in leather holster strapped to his legs and on his right hip they pegged the gun, Spencer's fingers itching to take it. Morgan's heart rate picked up and suddenly the room was a little too small.

It couldn't be!

His face looked just as it had the day he had last seen him, accept his hair. It had been dyed black and hung to mid-back in neat coils. It was his eyes, though, that spoke volumes.

They were the eyes of a dead man.

"Spencer," Morgan groaned his heart clenching in pain, "Baby boy, what has he done to you?"

A hysterical laugh bubbled free from the younger man, his wired gaze darting momentarily toward the Joker who appeared to be simply silently enjoying his reunion.

"Not Spencey," crooned Spencer an absolutely sinister grin shaping his mouth, "they call me Banshee last I heard."

_No, no, no, no, God no_! It was true, Spencer, his pretty boy was the mysterious Banshee?!

"I hear it comes from how I make people scream," Spencer continued in a dramatically hushed tone, "Honestly, I haven't a clue!"

Joker suddenly threw his head back and laughed, the horrendous sound bouncing off the walls. The sound was awful, near enough to make their ears bleed, but none of that compared to the pain of what they were looking at now. There was nothing lucid, or remotely sane about the man before them. Morgan's lover, best friend, baby boy was utterly lost to him and there was no way back across the divide.

"_Brrrr_, Spencey, be a lamb and close the door, you're letting in the cold kiddo."

With a movement of his foot the large door swung shut and in a split second Spencer was across the room dragging Morgan against him to take his husband's mouth in a searing kiss. Morgan groaned and fisting his hands in Spencer's hair he drowned in the gesture, ignoring the Joker's cat calls as he re-familiarised himself with his lovers touch, taking anything he could get until Spencer bit him fiercely. Derek yelped in pain jerking his head back and laughing Spencer's tongue flicked out and lapped up the teardrops of red before finally letting go and sauntering toward the couch closest to the fire.

"Any particular reason you ordered me home Joker?" Spencer asked his hazel eyes never leaving Morgan's face.

"Well Spencey," replied the clown as if it was just a normal conversation over drinks, "it's coming close to Christmas and I couldn't for the life of me, think want to get you kiddo, and then it hit me! _Whhhhy_ not get you your main squeeze! Truthfully I would've had him wrapped, but what can you do?"

Breathing hard, Morgan wiped the blood from his mouth and looked over at Hotch and Batman who were both watching him. _God _the pity in both sets of eyes was enough to make him nauseous.

"That was so thoughtful of you Joker!" Spencer said after a moment grinning dangerously before leaning forward, "and just wait till you see what I got you!"

Surging to his feet the long legged male headed toward a door in the far corner and disappeared into a dark hallway. Not three seconds later he returned and to Morgan and Hotch's horror, he was dragging a gagged and bound woman by her hair, the woman whining and struggling until Spencer tossed her, her body hitting the ground with jarring force.

"Spencer!" Morgan croaked distressed, "what are you doing? This isn't you pretty boy!"

Spencer's eyes flashed dangerously and Morgan took a single step forward, but Hotch grabbed his arm roughly dragging his agent back, "don't provoke him," the Unit chief warned in a low whisper.

"Hotch—"

"No, Agent Hotchner's right," Batman added just for their ears, "He's just as dangerous as Joker. Do _not_ underestimate him."

Spencer, dangerous, he was not here, this was a horrible nightmare! Oh sweet Jesus _please_ be a nightmare! Dark eyes wide, Morgan controlled him the best he could and looking back at Joker who was watching the whole thing in anticipation he swallowed and asked.

"What's the point of this baby boy?"

"The law is just as corrupt as those who do the corrupting Morgan," Spencer replied evenly before tearing the whimpering blonde up by her hair, "I mean take her for example. A man rapes and strangles a twelve year old girl and with the right amount of cash, Officer Ronda here makes the report disappear." He shrugged his shoulders jerking her head back violently his gaze burning into her battered face. "So who's the real monster in the equation, the man who raped that child, or this vile bitch for allowing him to get away to prey on others?"

"Spencer, listen baby boy to what you're saying. She's a criminal, just like he was and you care, you want justice," Morgan reasoned with a half smile, "that small part of you that's all good is fighting its way through."

Spencer barked a harsh laugh, "or I'm an unstable lunatic who just made up the whole thing and she's completely innocent."

"Spencer..."

"Now here's how it's going to go," the deranged genius interrupted, "you choose which the truth is and if you get it right, Ronda lives. If not, well, she won't be walking out of here let me tell you."

Heart racing in his chest, eyes wide, Morgan could scarcely believe what he was hearing, but this was Spencer, his pretty boy and there had to be a shred of humanity left inside him.

"She was bought; Ronda helped the rapist get away with it."

The Joker burst into a fit of laughter, eyes tearing and practically rolling about the couch, "_Ooooh!_ I _love_ it! Are you _that _desperate to find your Spencey Agent Morgan that you would actually hope for a means to Spencey's madness? I suppose it would make it easier, to think he had a valid reason." That dangerous light brightened within the madman's eyes. "But Chaos rarely has meaning."

"And you lose," Spencer finished.

The blade was free before Morgan could even cry out, metal biting sharply, splitting flesh, cutting through tendons, bone and just like that, Ronda's head was no longer attached to her body and two guns were trained on the young Genius, not that he noticed or cared. Batman had surged forward in hopes of getting to Ronda, but hadn't been fast enough and now that poor woman was a lifeless corpse at his feet a congealing pool of red slowly spread going from warm to cold.

"Her name was Ronda Smyth," Spencer informed him cheerfully, "mother of two, married fifteen years_ annnnnnnd_ a kindergarten teacher. Just you average _innocent _citizen."

"Then why kill her?" Morgan demanded thoroughly horrified, "why Spencer?"

The smile that lit his lover's face made Derek flinch. It was a genuine smile lighting up his face, sunny even if a tad crazed, "because Derek, I could, that's why."


End file.
